One Voice
by Samsara Dallire
Summary: Nick is despondent after the Haley Jones case and searches for solace in the arms of a friend. One shot with a possible follow up. Angst/Healing Comfort with a but of tasteful smut.


**One Voice**

**SYNOPSIS: The Haley Jones murder leaves Nick despondent.**

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the computer for which I wrote this on.**

**Pairing: Nick/Mandy**

**Betas: Smokey and Jacqui-thank you both.  
**

Mandy stood outside the locker room waiting for Ray to finish with Nick, wishing she could be in there with him.

She heard the sobs and knew this victim impacted him.

Haley Jones was fifteen years old and had a schoolgirl crush on Nick. Mandy smiled at the sweet innocence of it. Knowing poor Haley was also in need of a supportive parent touched her heart as well. All girls need loving, supportive, and understanding parents.

Frankly, it sucked to be a teenage girl, and Mandy knew better than anyone how it felt to be Haley Jones. The only difference between them was the fact that she had normal parents. Well, they were almost normal, but they had their quirks. Her dad was almost like Gil Grissom . . . socially inept and knowledgeable as hell. Her mother was a major dictator.

So she rebelled in her own way. It was the 1990s, Kurt Cobain and Nirvana ruled the airways as did Pearl Jam. Once she discovered them , she shed her preppy eighties clothes and poofy hair and donned Doc Martins, flannel shirts, loose jeans, and let her hair grow down to her ass. It pissed off her mother to no end, while her father was slightly amused and assured his wife Mandy was simply going through teenage girl rebellion and to simply let it be, as long as no drugs or booze were involved. Eventually all was well, for as soon as Mandy arrived at college, she found herself through her love for science and like-minded friends whom she kept in touch with to this very day.

Perhaps, had Haley's mother let her go through her rebellion with simple love and guidance, maybe she would be alive?

Then again, Haley was a victim of tragic circumstances. She was the daughter of the Joneses' own daughter's killer. Mandy wondered if she could raise such a child and not feel resentment and rage. She'd like to think she would try, as babies have a way of wiggling into your heart when you least want it.

And Haley must have been a gorgeous baby. Who could not love her? Obviously Mrs. Jones who had much rage and grief in her heart it was impossible to for it to accept the sweet tenderness of a tiny infant whose only fault was having a drug addict as a mom who unintentionally killed another innocent baby.

Ray slid out and nodded hello at her. Mandy thought the world of Ray Langston. He was such a gentle giant, and she appreciated him being there for Nick. It wouldn't be something Gil Grissom would do. As nice a guy as he was, he was inept at dealing with emotional fallout unless it was Sara Sidle, his Svengali of a girlfriend. Mandy rolled her eyes at the thought and then carefully opened the door.

"Hey you." She saw him sitting on the bench, crushed.

He looked up, his eyes red with tears. He wiped his nose and a small smile formed. "Hey."

"Heard Riley invited you out for your birthday." Mandy raised an eyebrow.

"Mandy," Nick grimaced. "Don't start." He bent down and began to fix his shoelaces.

"I'm not." She rushed over and sat down beside him. "I'm teasing."

"I'm not in the mood," he mumbled, his eyes red and swollen, his hands curled into fists.

"I can see that." Mandy looked around and then carefully rubbed his back. "Are you done for the day?"

He looked at her and nodded, tears brimming still.

"I'll meet you at your place, okay?" she whispered, reluctantly standing up and wishing she could give him the biggest hug her arms would allow, but knowing the setting didn't allow for such action.

He sniffled, cleared his throat and nodded. "I just have one more stop to make."

xxXXxx

There are just some crime scenes that forever stay in your memory, no matter how hard you try to put them aside.

In the washroom, he splashed cold water on his face, wanting to ensure that no one other than Ray and Mandy knew he'd been crying.

_So what happened?_

Nick smirked. If he had a doppelganger, he'd be a misunderstood crime fighter who'd be criticized on the internet for being a dumb ass. However, he'd long ago given up reading internet comments because as a New York Times journalist once wrote, "If you want to lose faith in humanity, read the comments section on the internet."

However, tonight Nick finally lost whatever faith he had in humanity. He didn't have to read random comments on the internet for that. He had only to see Haley Jones' body on the ground to remind him of the very fact that humanity was depraved. He didn't know why he even held onto his faith, given the fact that he'd lost Warrick to depravity and an egomaniac of an undersheriff, a sociopath who cared nothing for anyone but himself.

As he patted his face dry with some paper towels from the dispenser, he had to ask himself a nagging question. Were his tears for just Haley or was some part of his pain about Warrick?

After all, he had never visited the grief counsellor when she was there. She had hounded him to speak with her, but he had refused. He would be fine. All Nick had to do was bury himself in his work and eventually the grief would just take its place in his soul along with the other traumatic events of his life . . . being held at gunpoint, being buried alive, being dismissed by Grissom over and over again. Hell, he'd pull through because, well, it was just who he was.

Somehow, Ray's words struck a chord with him, and an inkling told him it was okay to let it go with him. He was still a stranger, after all, and often Nick felt it was easier to let go of things with a stranger, especially one as open as Ray was, one who did not try at all to tell him to not allow his emotions to affect the case, as Grissom would have done. And the wisdom Ray showed in telling him his grief was what this job was, well, those were words he had longed to hear. It was cathartic, and there was no one else on the team he could share the pain with.

It was amazing, Nick thought, how on a team you fit into a role, and there were more times than he cared to admit when he was simply the 'underdog' on the team, the dismissed one, the dumb jock His quests for making the team a team denied by Grissom who set the tone with his intellectual elitism and his not allowing the case to affect his emotions, until it was revealed he was sleeping with Sara.

Grissom . . . loved the guy, hated the hypocrisy. And he would never let Nick simply let go of his emotions tonight. No one on the team would have been open to emotional Nick, because he was used to the role of the stoic, straight arrow, and emotion was weak as far as they were concerned. They had to be strong and stay focused on their cases. Be little ants in the ant hill.

Nick often felt that if he were an ant, he'd have been squashed a long time ago.

xxXXxx

Haley laid there, her face pallor, her eyes closed, looking more peaceful than when she was alive. In the dim light, she looked almost like an angel.

_What happened?_

Biting his lip, he looked at Super Dave, who nodded. "I'll just be in the other room."

"Thanks, Super Dave," Nick said.

Taking a deep breath, the Texan said, "Haley, I'm really sorry I didn't figure out your mother's . . . your birth mother's . . . murder months ago. If I had, you'd still be alive today and I'm sure of it."

Tears were sliding down his cheeks, as he continued, "I let you down. I'm really, really sorry . . . I hope you can forgive me ."

Tears dropped onto the sheets, the stain spreading. His nose burned and his stomach coiled as he allowed the wall to collapse again. It was safe with Super Dave as well as Ray. Must be something in the training they gave doctors to allow humans to grieve, even those who were trained in their jobs not to do so.

_What happened?_

He placed his hands over his face and sobbed quietly until the well ran dry, or felt as though it were dry.

Finally, he collected himself, grabbed some tissues from a table Doc Robbins kept around for families and friends, and then called out to tell Super Dave who was working on the computer (or pretending to) that he was done.

He looked up, smiled , and said, "No problem, Nick."

_So what happened?_

_I don't know Haley. I fell down on the job. _

xxXXxx

It wasn't until an hour later Nick realized he'd been driving in circles and somehow through subconscious knowledge wound up back at the Park Pines Motel, 49 Freemont.

The place looked like a ghost town, the manager's office and residence blackened. Leaning back into his seat, he studied the premises, trying to answer questions in his mind as to why he was so quick to dismiss the Tanya Carrow case as a suicide. It was so unlike him. He was always the one to dig deeper.

A quick calculation in his head told him that it was around the time of Warrick's death and perhaps, perhaps it was simply easier to put it off as a suicide because she was a junkie and junkie's don't value their lives, whereas Warrick did.

Maybe he dismissed the case subconsciously?

What struck Nick then was that Haley was changing. Why didn't he say something to her when he saw the pierced lip and goth make up? Christ, only a short time before she was in blonde tresses and telling him he didn't get it.

No, he didn't get it. In hindsight, his response to her reaching out about online bullying was met with a very dismissive 'blow it off.' Now he understood that it was not so easy to blow off comments on the net. When he was in high school, bullying came in the form of being shoved up against the locker. Hell, when he was a freshman, a huge football jock picked him up and shoved him inside a locker and there he stayed for the remainder of the day - by choice since he wasn't sure if he came out what would come next. He was a scrawny, little punk in that time with his mullet and preppie clothes, and being a judge's son made him a target.

He never told his parents about any of these incidents. His dad would have told him to suck it up and deal with it. In a sense, he told Haley the same thing, but in her case it was not appropriate.

Nick sighed and thought bullying had become more insidious now with the advent of the internet, anonymous bullying by folks looking for two minutes of fame in the form of a post because they were too chicken to say it face to face with someone.

Dammit, Haley was right. He didn't get it. His advice was stupid, trite, and meaningless. Why hadn't he done more to help this poor kid? Why didn't he call someone . . . a youth worker or a social worker to check on the family situation? Professional distance? Stupid really. Or was he was trying to avoid burnout like what happened to Sara and Grissom?

The sound of thunder startled him as rain drops pelted the windows around him. He unlocked the door and picked up the bouquet of flowers and vela candle with Julian of Norwich, Patron Saint of Lost Causes.

He found an area of the motel where the candle could burn and the flowers stay dry and carefully lit it and watched it burn brightly. For a moment, his despair lifted. He smiled, slightly.

Back in his truck, Nick turned the key in the ignition and with the humming noise of the vehicle drowning out the noise in his ears, he pulled out of the parking lot and headed back home.

xxXXxx

A good book was a great way to drown out the sorrows of the night rain. This thought rang through Mandy's head as she heard Nick's truck pull in and its engine die.

She was reading _Fall On Your Knees_, a story about four sisters from Nova Scotia, Canada, each of whom faced unbelievable tragedies and short lives. Mandy wasn't sure why she was reading it, but Nick had told her probably because Oprah Winfrey had it in her book club, so maybe that was why. It was a long, arduous read, but hey, she'd get through it.

But not tonight. She had others matter to take care of, and he was unlocking the door.

She sat up and looked over the back of the couch, sighing heavily at the sight of him. He was drenched. Droplets of water fell from his hat, his jacket was drenched, his blue jeans soaked. They swished as he closed the door, hung up his key and hat.

Sliding off the couch, she strolled over and scolded him, "Dude, you're soaked. Where were you?"

"Just around. Turns out I had two pit stops, not just one." His answer was short and trite as he slipped the jacket off, hung it on the door handle to dry, and hung his hat on the hook. "What have you been doing?"

"Reading . . . waiting for you," Mandy answered.

"You didn't have to wait for me."

Her smile was warm. "Yes, I did." She looked up at him, sadly taking in his defeated demeanour. "C'mon, let's get you out of these wet clothes."

"What are you, my mom?" Nick grumbled, but still allowed himself to be guided toward the bathroom. She wasn't exactly living with him, but she might as well have been. Enough drawer space had been set aside, but they were still in the early stages, so talk of living together was not on the table.

"Nope," Mandy answered and went to grab some clean laundry out of the basket for him.

"You did my laundry?" Nick asked as he stripped off the wet clothes and dried himself.

"Well, they weren't going to wash themselves." She handed him some black jockeys and a Dallas Cowboys t-shirt that she'd bought him for his birthday.

"Thanks, Mandy." Nick eyed the t-shirt gratefully.

She shrugged and said, "See you in bed."

"Uh Mandy." Nick began to dress. "I . . . I'm . . . not. . . ."

She cocked her head, amused. "Don't worry about it."

xxXXxx

Nick's teeth were still chattering as he walked back into the bedroom. Mandy was under the navy blue comforter, her nose buried in a book. But as he slid under the comforter, she placed it on the night stand and slid down to face him, grasping his hand. His eyes were black, surrounded by a sea of red.

"So, "she asked, "where were you?"

Clearing his throat, Nick answered, "Went to the morgue to see Haley, and then went to the motel to pay my respects with some flowers and a candle."

Mandy eyed him softly and asked, "Are you going to go to her funeral?"

"Yep," he answered without hesitation. "I owe it to her."

The print tech was quiet for a moment and then said, "Ray was right."

"How do you know what he said?" Nick asked, his eyebrows knitted together.

"I was waiting outside."

Nick sighed heavily. "I know he's right, but it still doesn't change the fact that I should have dug deeper on her mother's case."

"Nick." Mandy sensed he was about to start the self-flagellation again. "There wasn't a lot of evidence at the time to prove otherwise. Had that guy at the hotel come to you sooner and told you about the cups, maybe you would have been more inclined to do so. Even her father didn't think otherwise."

"You know what that guy said?" Nick began and continued, "He said that he didn't think someone like me would believe him. " He scoffed, "What about me scares people?"

"Not all people are afraid you, but you do have an authoritative way about you at a crime scene. That's a good thing." Mandy leaned into his shoulder. "Sexy too."

Nick mumbled, "It's not good if it scares potential key witnesses away."

"Not all of them," Mandy insisted. "Only the ones who are always looking over their shoulders because they know they broke the law, and it was only after he felt he got his life together that he felt he could come to you. You can't do anything about how people react to your presence."

"My dad always taught me to behave a certain way and to dress a certain way to garner respect."

"And he's done well with that."

"But it doesn't make me approachable, so what good does it do?"

"Nick," Mandy said in a stern voice, "you did nothing wrong here. You're not a mind reader. You're not a social worker."

Nick felt his heart twisting. "Shortly after Warrick died, we got called out to the motel where her mom was found. There were signs there . . . there was no paraphernalia, there wasn't enough there to indicate a suicide." His chest tightened and he cleared his throat. "I walked up to the room and I saw her there in the rain . . . Haley. She was different person, Mandy. I should have said something to her. She was dressed in goth. I noticed and I looked at her and she looked at me so defiantly, almost challenging me to say something to her."

"Lots of girls go through those phases, Nick," Mandy said. "Not all girls dressed in goth are on a road to destruction. It's a phase. It's a search for their identity. Her mom wanted her to be like that chick, Bree, because Bree looked like what she thought would be her biological daughter, but Haley wanted her own identity."

"I wanted to say something to her, but I don't know...my mind was on Warrick. I was just trying to work through the grief and keep the team together. Grissom was gone long before he quit. Catherine and I had to hold everything together and bring in a newbie and deal with her."

"You're not a superhero, Nick, as much as you want to be." Mandy squeezed his arm.

"Yeah, well she needed someone to reach out to her." Nick felt his throat tighten and his nose burn as he gruffed, " She obviously wasn't getting it from her parents."

"And how were you supposed to know what was really going on? You didn't have the full picture," Mandy insisted. "You were doing your job, then and now. You can't change the past. You can't let it eat you up either, or you won't be able to continue on further."

"Everything seemed normal to me from the first day I met them until the end."

"And how were you supposed to know it wasn't?"

"I had my instinct, I just didn't follow it. After Warrick died, I was on autopilot." Nick swallowed hard as the lump formed in his throat again.

A light bulb switched on in Mandy's head. "I'm gonna play Dr. Phil for a second, Nick," she said. "I think there's more to your grief for Haley. I think a lot of this has to do with Warrick."

Nick ran a tongue over his lips and struggled to find the right words again, but blurted, "I should have done more for him."

"Like what?" Mandy asked, shaking her head. "You threw his pills away. That didn't stop him."

"I should have been there that night," Nick said tightly, his chest tightening as the pit of his stomach turned inwards. He rambled on the thoughts that rang through his head, " I should have left with him. I stayed behind. . . ."

"To take that waitresses' number." Mandy's eyes twinkled and she smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

But Nick's eyes had widened with worry. "It was before we got together."

"I know. I'm teasing you." Mandy chuckled at his defensiveness. "But maybe it was better that way. You might have been shot too."

"Or maybe he wouldn't have been shot at all," Nick retorted.

"If someone was going to get rid of him, they were gonna do it, one way or another, and if it hadn't been done that night it would have happened eventually."

"You're not saying it's his fault?" said Nick with a sharp tone piercing his voice.

"Never," Mandy corrected. " "I'm saying he was marked, and I think you're allowing your grief to siphon through this case, Nicky. You have been working so hard to stay professional and strong, but this case got to you. Something about this girl got to you."

His throat tightened as Nick choked out, "She was going downhill, like Warrick, and I couldn't stop her." A rush of emotions swelled in his chest.

He tried to hold back, but Mandy pulled him to her and said, "It's okay. Let it out, dude. You've been holding this crap in for months, ever since Warrick died. You can't change the past, but what you're doing now for his son," Mandy smiled and caressed his face, "is a wonderful, awesome tribute, and I bet anything Warrick is looking down on you now, and smiling." She leaned in and drew him close and whispered soothing words to him.

Nick gripped her tightly. Her soft body felt warm and comforting. He swallowed harder to keep the lump down, but it forced itself out of like a gush from a geyser. He buried his face into her soft, black hair and sobbed . . . for Haley, for Warrick, for his departed team members, for everything. Once he started, there was no going back. He had held back to some degree with Langston, but here with Mandy it was safe. She rubbed his back gently as the rain pelted against the window and the wind howled a lonely shriek.

After a blur of unknown time passed, Nick finally withdrew from her arms, sniffled, and smiled. Tears streaked her own face, smearing her glasses. He laughed as she pulled them off her face and set them on the side table before turning back to him and stroking his own streaked face.

"Feel better?" she asked, clearing her tightened throat. She'd seen Nick emotional before and it was always a heart-breaking sight. Like a forlorn puppy in an animal shelter.

"Sort of," he answered gruffly, then gently clasped her fingers and kissed them. Mandy bit her bottom lip and then tentatively took his hand, laid it on her chest, and held it there. Nick eyed it carefully, eyes wide, watching his ring gleam in the light. His breathing increased almost in harmony with the wind outside while his soul whispered to him, encouraging him to accept the offer.

Their brown eyes held each other intensely, wearily unsure whether, after such a horrid shift, this would be appropriate or not, until Mandy broke the silence by whispering, "It's okay, Nick, it's okay to do this." She brought his hand down further and encouraged him. Her voice encouraged and ignited him and carnal desires were soon replacing piercing grief. His hands became sentient beings, travelling familiar places only known to him. His previous statement in the bathroom backtracked and now he wanted this.

Stripping bare, Nick collapsed onto Mandy, her soft, creamy body welcoming him, nurturing him. Her hands ran up and down his back, before a sly smile formed on her full lips as they landed on his gluteus maximus. Her black silky hair spread like a fan on the pillow, her full cheeks roseyrosy. Nick sometimes couldn't believe he'd been working next to such a gorgeous lady all these years and never take notice of the obvious fact. Their bantering had become flirtier. They'd kept their relationship very private, very subtle. Given Nick was second in command, he simply wanted to keep a boundary and thankfully, Mandy was fine adding that it actually made the relationship more fun. A secret only they knew.

As their desire kindled and burnedburned, Mandy mumbled to him, her voice ragged with lust, "I remember how many times I'd be running prints and missing hits because I'd be too busy staring at your ass." She squeezed for emphasis. "You're a walking hazard on the job, you know."

Feeling his grief and guilt release him from their shackles, Nick broke into a small fit of laughter. "Oh yeah, well I won't tell Catherine that info." He shushed her with a deep kiss as he glided in and rocked her, pleasuring in her gasps of delight while her arms held him. The horrors of the outside world vanished temporarily as he allowed the pain and grief of the events of his birthday to take a backseat and comfort to take the driver's seat. Or he tried.

This moment was different from their usual animalistic couplings, which had started with flirty bantering and shy smiles. Only after Warrick had died had she asked him out for coffee. At first he didn't want to talk about his fallen friend, he, he just wanted to enjoy the acerbic humour of the lab rat outside the lab with no eyes staring at them and rumours running amok. After a number of coffee dates and a movie, Nick found he couldn't get her sweet smile out of his head. The same smile which looked up at him right now, with her mouth slightly open as she gave as much to him as he gave to her. Give and take, take and give, passion for passion, love for love, encouraging and enduring words, chasing the evil ghosts out of the room as lightning lit up the dark and thunder rolled along.

No, tonight was about escaping from the trenches of his job.

So why was the voice still whispering in head?

_What happened?_

xxXXxx

Panting and clammy, Mandy manoeuvred herself on top and slid her hands across his canvass taking note that even in this fervour of a moment, Nick's mind was not with them. Was he still feeling guilty? She lowered herself down and sprinkled soft kisses along his forehead and down the side of his face, leaning in to whisper, "It's okay. Let go and enjoy yourself." She felt hands cup the sides of her head and in an instant was face to face with him as he nodded in agreement as their lips met desperately. Rising back up, she placed her hands on his belly, enjoying the view while rocking to and fro, relishing the feeling of the sweet spot being pummelled. She ramped up the tempo as his hips soon met hers and in a frenzy she hit her climax. While floating down back to earth, she sensed his release. Their rocking soon slowed as she curled down onto him, his arms holding her close while their frantic breathing evened into a steady rhythm. Her head tucked under his chin, she glided her hands along his clammy chest.

Leisurely raindrops vibrated against the window now as Mandy soon eased herself off of Nick and drew the comforter up to their chins. Propping herself up, she gazed at Nick who, while relaxed, still seemed lost in deep reflection.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

He rolled over to face her and answered with a gruff voice, "Doesn't take inflation into account."

"We're in a recession, dude."

"True." Nick trailed a finger along her face. "No, I was just thinking it was my birthday, and when I checked my e-mail, nothing from Sara or Grissom, kind of added insult to injury. I mean I know he's in a jungle somewhere, but he could have still sent something."

"You got me babe!" Mandy grinned clasping his hand and kissing it. "And I know today sucked, but Happy Birthday anyways."

"Thanks." Nick said reflectively.

xxXXxx

Not that he was expecting anything; Sara and Grissom were in the middle of a jungle somewhere doing God knows what. But it would have helped ease his horrible day a bit.

It was strange, however, how he felt comfortable enough to share his thoughts and feelings with Langston, who was, after all, a stranger to him. But there was a comfort now in his new seniority. Nick didn't feel the need to prove himself to Langston. He was the doctor's superior, not vice versa. Plus, Langston had an aura about him that indicated that he was comfortable with human emotions, while Grissom was fearful of them. And Nick certainly didn't want to burden Catherine, who was both grieving over the loss of Warrick, and missing Grissom. They were her rocks.

Mandy had told him there were rumours that he and Catherine were an item after seeing them hold hands at Warrick's funeral, but Catherine had sensed Grissom's words had touched a nerve and set him off, and she had simply responded in an appropriate fashion. Catherine had always been Nick's ally, and other than a few scuffles, she was also his best friend. They were bonded by grief, not desire.

And it was for this reason he chose to let his guard down with Langston and then here in his bed with Mandy, who in her own way comforted him. But sadly, even in the throes of passion, a voice still rang in his head.

"I'm sorry," he said, noting Mandy was still staring at him concerned. . "I . . . keep hearing her voice. Haley's voice."

Her face fell. "You don't have anything to be sorry about." She leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Or to be guilty about."

"It's that obvious?" Nick said ruefully.

"You're an open book, dude," Mandy said softly, caressing his arm.

"Yeah, a bad fan fiction story!" Nick said, a smirk breaking through his sadness.

"You read fan fiction?!" Mandy gasped in delight. "So do I . . . been reading Star Trek forever."

"Uh no, Archie's showed me a few," Nick corrected, and watched her flush in embarrassment. "I won't tell anyone yours and Archie's dirty little secret."

"Good." Mandy sighed and then sat up. "I brought over season four of Star Trek, The Next Generation. You wanna watch?"

Nick sat up and reached for his scattered clothing, amazed that his jockeys had landed on the bed post. "Your doing." He held them to her.

"Well, at least I didn't toss them across the room like you did you with my underwear!" she groaned as she sashayed off the bed, Nick checking out her voluptuous booty. He always was an ass man, although Doc didn't get the Seinfeld reference and some rumour mongrels took the expression the wrong way.

xxXXxx

"So who is the guy that likes to bug Picard?" Nick asked. He wasn't well versed on all matters pertaining to Star Trek, but Mandy soon filled him in on the basic data of the show.

"His name is Q," she said through a mouthful of popcorn from a bowl on the coffee table. They were sprawled out under a blanket, curled up with one another. Nick rested against the couch with a beer he found by surprise in the fridge along with two huge cakes. One the team had given him (half of it already devoured) while the other was another one shaped in the form of his home state - another delicious chocolate cake. Mandy had told him they could celebrate his birthday on the weekend.

"He's like Picard's antagonist," Nick commented, downing the last bit of beer and staring at the bottle gratefully.

"Yep, but sometimes he's right about Picard."

"Interesting...a bad guy making sense," Nick snarked. "Not in my world."

"That's why I like science fiction," Mandy told him, sliding her hand under his shirt. "You can escape from the real world when it gets to be too much."

"Or, you could just let it be." Nick sighed defeatedly. "You can't change it. Bad guys sometimes win."

"Which is why it's great when good guys like you refuse to back down." Mandy looked up at him with a knowing smile. She knew wild horses couldn't drag him from his job.

Nick smiled and kissed her forehead, and slunk down deeper into the couch.

xxXXxx

_What happened?_

He hadn't realized he had dozed off until he bolted up on the couch. The coffee table was cleaned and the TV shut off. Nick surmised that he must have fallen asleep and Mandy simply covered him up with the blanket and headed off to bed.

Sweating, Nick looked around trying to place the voice, the chipperness of the voice, and finally slumped back on the couch.

Was this one more nightmare he'd have to endure? One more face of death haunting him in the night? Yes, of course. Unfortunately, this was a hazard of the job.

Was he going to let it beat him down? No. Cisco had always told him, "Get back on the horse, Pancho."

Nick always did. Folding up the blanket on the couch, he headed into the bedroom and curled up under the comforter with Mandy, spooning her sleeping form. The sound of her soft breathing filled his ears, but as sleep came over him, the voice whispered again.

_What happened?_

Nick's eyes popped open and he answered out loud, "I don't know, Haley, and I don't know if I ever will."


End file.
